


those heavy days in june

by witcraft



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, M/M, Post-Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-11 02:12:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17437934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witcraft/pseuds/witcraft
Summary: Narcissa would do anything for Draco. Even turn to the enemy for help.





	1. Prologue (Andromeda)

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't read harry potter in years and have no idea why I'm writing about it now, but i'm going with it. Multi-chap fic, although I'm not sure how many chapters yet. Pretty much canon compliant through book 5, with the exception that Sirius was only wounded in the Department of Mysteries, not killed.

Andromeda Tonks is a light sleeper.

She always has been– she blames it on growing up with Bellatrix, who always liked to play  _tricks_  while her sisters slept. And then once she had moved out there was a newborn, and then the war, and god knows that kept her up at night. By the time she didn’t have to worry about Nymphadora waking or her estranged family members bursting down their door and slaughtering her husband and daughter, well. She’d rather gotten in the habit of stirring at any odd sound.

And He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back now, so it was a good thing too she never got out of the habit.

But the point is: Andromeda is a light sleeper, so it’s her who wakes at the sound of the doorbell. 

She blinks until her eyes focus. The clock beside her bed glows blue, reads 2:46. The bell rings again, followed by the distant slam of the knocker against the front door, and a jolt of adrenaline courses through Andromeda’s veins. She scrambles out of bed and shakes Ted, asleep beside her. “There’s someone at the door,” she hisses when he stirs, then grabs her wand and makes her way downstairs.

It is not the enemy, she reassures herself. Death Eaters wouldn’t fucking knock. But it must be urgent, to come in the middle of the night. Urgent news concerning… Nymphadora? What else could it be? Oh, god. God, why did she have to be an auror? Why couldn’t she have wanted to… farm potatoes, in the countryside, or something?

When she reaches the door, she looks out the peephole. There is a single, hooded figure on the porch. Andromeda can’t see their face. She can hear Ted on the stairs behind her. She grips her wand tighter and opens the door.

The figure was reaching out to knock once more. Her hand freezes in midair. Andromeda sees the face under the hood, and her mind goes blank. “Cissy?”

Her little sister holds herself stiff and cold and does not reach out to Andromeda. “Can I come in?”

* * *

 

Andromeda takes her to the kitchen. Narcissa does not seem to see Ted frozen on the stairs. He gives Andromeda a wide-eyed look as she passes, and she shrugs helplessly. He doesn’t follow them into the kitchen, but Andromeda is sure he is lingering in the hall outside, in case…

In case.

Narcissa lowers her hood. Andromeda stares at her. God, she’s a grown woman. For the past twenty-five years, she has existed in Andromeda’s head as a sixteen year old girl. But her face is that of a woman in her middle age– still beautiful, and with an elegance she had not quite grasped in her teens, but there are lines around her eyes and her cheeks are no longer round with youth and her eyes are deeply sad. Andromeda hardly recognizes her.

Andromeda does not know what to say, and Narcissa doesn’t wait for her to figure it out. “Dromeda,” she says, and it’s been so long since anyone has called her that, “I need help.”

She sounds desperate, and of course she must be, to come here of all places. “What’s happened?”

“My  _son_ , Dromeda,” her voice shakes. Her hands shake too, Andromeda notices only because she somehow cannot look her in the eye. “He’ll kill him. Please. Please, you’re my last hope”

“I don’t understand, what are you…” Andromeda trails off. She can’t absorb this, this collision of the old world and the new. Narcissa doesn’t belong to this part of her life, and to have to her here, under the florescent light with the hum of the fridge in the background, is surreal, impossible.

“It’s Lucius’ fault,” the trembling has spread from her hands and her voice to her whole body. “He failed, and the Dark lord is punishing us. Punishing  _Draco_.”

Andromeda doesn’t remember exactly how old Narcissa’s son is, but she’s sure he’s not grown. No more than fifteen or sixteen, no more than a child. “Punishing him how?”

Narcissa laughs, but it’s bitterness and rising hysteria, no humor at all. “He says it’s an  _honor_.” Andromeda’s stomach twists. She doesn’t want to know what He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named calls an honor. Narcissa continues hoarsely, “It’s a suicide mission. He’ll either die trying, or fail and the Dark Lord will kill us both.”

“Cissy, what–”

“He’s been commanded to kill Albus Dumbledore.”

Andromeda gapes. “That’s  _absurd_.”

“Of course it is! That’s the point! He’ll never manage it; even if it weren’t Dumbledore, he couldn’t kill anyone. He’s just a boy.”

Twenty minutes ago, Andromeda was asleep, and now there is a child’s life being thrust into her hands to, somehow, save. Jesus. “What do you want from me, Cissy?”

“You need to  _help_  him,” Narcissa demands with a vicious desperation that cuts her to the bone. For a moment she sounds five again, running to Andromeda when Bella plays too rough. “You have connections to the Order, I know you do. Help him. Hide him. Get him out of this. I know you can.” And there it is, the reason Narcissa came to her, of all people. “ _You_  got out, Andromeda.” 

Andromeda’s never felt guilty about leaving her family. She was smart about it, not like Sirius– she waited until she was an adult, she withdrew as much as she could carry from her trust fund, and then she cut all ties. She wondered occasionally about Narcissa– when she saw her engagement and her wedding and her child printed about in the society pages, when she caught sight girls who looked a bit like her (Nymphadora turned her hair white once, and looked so familiar it nearly gave her a heart attack), when random things like hair ribbons or perfumes in the shops sparked a memory– but she’s never even considered that she should feel guilty for leaving her behind.

Because Narcissa didn’t want to leave. She was happy. She believed in everything they sold, she… she was…

She was sixteen. And Andromeda left her, alone, to suffer Bella, and… and she married Lucius right out of school, and… was that her choice? Or was she encouraged by father and mother to the degree that she couldn’t say no? But she was happy. Andromeda couldn’t have convinced her to leave. She’s  _positive_.

But maybe she should have tried.

Andromeda rubs a hand across her forehead. “I can try. Talk to some people, arrange a safe house under a fidelius charm for you two. We should be able to get you out by the end of summer–”

Narcissa interrupts. “He’s set to me marked in  _two days_ , Andromeda! And it’s done then. That’s the  _end_  of it forever.”

Andromeda blanches. “Two fucking days? Jesus Christ. Fucking  _hell_.”

Narcissa looks betrayed. “I though you could help,” she says, accusatory.

“Are you– Cissy,  _nobody_  is going to take your word on this! You’re a Death Eater’s wife. You’ve certainly never taken issue with You-Know-Who before. It’ll take  _weeks_  to convince everyone this isn’t some scheme to, to infiltrate the Order, or–”

“Then don’t take my word!” Narcissa seizes her hand. “I’ll do whatever, I’ll– I’ll swear an unbreakable vow.”

Andromeda is blindsided for feels like the hundredth time that night. “You’d do that?”

“ _There is nothing I wouldn’t do anymore!_ ” Narcissa cries, with a desperation all her own. Andromeda has never seen her like this.

But she recognizes it.

Insanity runs in their family’s blood. The Blacks burn hot and reckless and over-emotional, and Narcissa had always been the exception. She was ice where Bellatrix, and Sirius, and Regulus, and yes, even Andromeda, were fire. She was composed and careful and constant. In a family where madness was the norm, Narcissa remained stubbornly sane. Even her looks were icy, her albinism taking her family’s wild black hair and stormy grey eyes and turning them both a shining silver.

But right now, for her child’s sake, there is madness in her eyes.

“Stay here,” Andromeda commands. “I need to make some calls.”


	2. Chapter One (Draco)

Draco keeps his mind flat and empty, keeps all his memories and opinions under planes of ice. Smooth and untouchable. The unfamiliar force inside his head presses harder. Draco does not think of anything except the present moment, the late morning sun from the window warming his face, the soft rug under his knees and the hard wood beneath, the red-black inside of his eyelids. He focuses on his breathing.

Bellatrix strikes out and  _shatters_  the ice.

Memories flood out too fast, unconnected pieces of  _mother father hogwarts flying potter pansy london_ jumbling up as Bellatrix rips through them, tossing them this way and that—

And then she's gone, and Draco sways in her stunning absence. There is bile in his throat and an excruciating pain in his head.

He swallows down both and opens his eyes.

He is kneeling in the middle of the second floor sitting room. Bellatrix is sprawled across the chaise across from him. She tosses a crystal tumbler in the air and catches it like a 500 gallon rubber ball, then flashes him a grin. Her wand dangles loosely in her other hand. "You lasted twelve minutes," she informs him cheerfully. "Do you think that's good enough?"

Draco knows it's not. He twists his hands in the skirts of his robes and looks down.

The tumbler flies past his ear, close enough he can hear it whistle in air. It shatters against the wall behind him. "Answer the question," Bellatrix commands, suddenly threatening.

Draco swallows. "I apologize, Auntie. No, it's not good enough." He twists his robes around his hands tight enough to feel the silk strain, and meets Bellatrix's eyes. "I'll do better this time."

* * *

 

Bellatrix has him practice for another two hours before she gets bored. He lasts twenty minutes once, but he thinks it was only because she got distracted and didn't push as hard. He doesn't point that out.

He's grateful, of course, that Bella is helping him. If he's to be the Dark Lord's servant, he needs to know occlumency, and she said Severus wasn't pushing him hard enough.

It hurts a lot more with her, but it's necessary.

He thanks her when she dismisses him, and makes it to his bedroom before he stumbles and has to grab the wall for support. He takes deep breathes and waits for the nausea the pounding migraine has drudged up to abate. When he's sure he's not going to vomit, he straightens and gets a pain potion from the drawer of his vanity.

It takes several long seconds, but the pain abates to a soft ache in the back of his skull. Draco sighs and rolls his neck out, then grimaces at his reflection. There’s dark circles under his eyes. He hasn’t been sleeping too well, lately. It’s the unfamiliarity of his own bed, after so long away at school.

And the-- excitement-- about his fast-approaching marking doesn’t help.

There's a knock at his door. "Come in," he calls, and Narcissa enters. Draco smiles at her in the mirror. "Hi, mama."

She smiles back, but it looks a little forced. The strain of Lucius's imprisonment and the sudden changes in their household have left her with a resting expression of concern. Everytime Draco sees her, he's reminded why he must succeed and restore their family's status. "Hello, darling," she says. Draco lets her bend down and kiss him on each cheek. "How has your day been?"

"Alright.” He pauses, because it's the sort of thing that worries her, then adds, “Auntie Bella's been kind enough to work on my occlumency with me."

As he feared, Narcissa looks alarmed. "Are you alright?"

Draco laughs, a little uneasy, and looks away. "Of course."

"Of course," Narcissa murmurs. She catches his eyes in the mirror, and something seems to resolve in her own. She takes his hands in hers, and and it is with sudden gravity that she says, "Draco, I need you to listen to me."

The intensity is alarming. "What's wrong?" A jolt of horror hits Draco. "Has something happened to father?" People die in Azkaban all the time, after all. He  _can’t_  die before Draco saves him.

Narcissa sighs, and she looks suddenly very old. "No, Draco. This is about you. Us." She tightens her grip on his hands. "We're leaving. Tonight."

Draco blinks. "Wha— why?" Narcissa gives him a look. "Mama, we can’t leave. The Dark Lord, he— I'm to be marked—"

"If you take that mark," Narcissa interrupts, "there are two ways this could go. One: you will get caught. Depending on by who, and how, you will either be killed or you'll go to Azkaban." She touches his cheek softly, as if to balance out the brutality when she says, "You won't last long there. The young always go quick.

"Possibility two: you do not get caught, but you fail. You come back with nothing to offer but shame, and the Dark Lord will kill you. Rather, he'll have Bella kill you, and she'll make it hurt."

Draco shakes his head. "No. No, she wouldn't. We're  _family_."

Narcissa stares him down. "There is very little Bellatrix wouldn't do, and nothing if the Dark Lord commanded it. It doesn't matter if she likes you or loves you, Draco, she  _will_  hurt you. And likely she'll enjoy it.” Draco shakes his head again, more emphatically.

"She will. I imagine I'll die first, painfully, in front of you— perhaps even by you, under the imperious curse. Then you'll be tortured, in ways you cannot  _imagine_  but I can describe, if you need more convincing. And you  _will_  die, Draco, no matter what."

Draco gapes at his mother. Her voice is steady, even hard, but her hands in his shake. She's wrong, she has to be— but.

But didn't he wonder himself, why a sixteen year old was being pitted against one of the greatest wizards alive? 

But... no. No, he doesn’t believe it, he can’t.

Narcissa sees the denial in his eyes, and her own gaze hardens. “It doesn’t matter if you don’t believe it. I’ve already gone the the light side, and told them what he wants you to do.”

Draco recoils. “Mama, you  _didn’t_. When he finds  _out_...”

“When the Dark Lord finds out, we will be well out of his reach,” Narcissa says. Her tone brooks no argument. “Unless you would go now and reveal my betrayal.” Draco feels sick. He can’t, of course he can’t. “Those are your options, darling.”

Draco crumples. There is a painful loosening in his chest that he will not allow to be relief, relief at having this taken so thoroughly out of his hands. He doesn't need to be saved. He's supposed to be  _doing_  the saving. Yet... "Where are we going?" he whispers. 

Narcissa pulls him into her arms and he goes willingly into them. "Somewhere safe," she swears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Draco. He's so... dumb.


	3. Chapter Two (Harry)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because Sirius survived in this AU, just pretend Harry spent like.. three days at the Dursley’s before going to stay with him.

By the time Harry wakes up, 12 Grimmauld Place is in a commotion.

That alone isn’t overly unusual. During the day, there’s often order members coming and going. But with only Sirius, Lupin, and Harry living there, and visitors not usually arriving until late morning, the early hours tend to be quiet and still.

Which is why Walburga Black’s portrait suddenly  _shrieking_  at the tender hour of six am sends Harry cursing and jolting out of sleep and onto the floor. 

He groans and lets his head fall back against the hardwood floor. Beneath the yelling, he can hear voices, and-- oh, Sirius has spelled the portrait quiet for the moment, at least, and it is so tempting to get back in bed, but now the yelling’s quieted he can hear the visitors and Sirius and Lupin all talking over each other in harried tones.

His curiosity gets him off the floor and into the first pair of jeans and t-shirt he finds. He fumbles his glasses onto his face and goes downstairs. The visitors have moved from the hallway to the kitchen by the time he gets there, and when he tries to get in, he finds the door firmly locked.

He knocks. There’s a long pause, then Lupin pokes his head out. He blinks at the sight of Harry. “What  _are_  you doing up?”

Harry raises an eyebrow. “Well, the screaming was a bit hard to miss. What’s going on?”

Lupin winces. Harry can hear people talking behind him in low voices. “Right. Ah, nothing for you to be concerned about.”

Harry raises the other eyebrows. “’S a lot of people here very early for nothing,” he points out. Lupin looks unimpressed.

“It’s order business, Harry,” he sighs. “I’m sorry, but--”

“Oh, let him hear!” Sirius snaps from behind Lupin, with vicious irritation. “He’ll know soon enough,  _apparently_.”

A woman tsks. “Where else are they supposed to go? This is the only place that can be made safe enough on such short notice--”

“Anywhere. Anywhere else. How can you not see this is a trap? She is leading them  _right_  to our door and you--”

“ _She swore an unbreakable vow_ , Sirius.”

“Please. As if that would stop her from--”

“Oh,  _Merlin_.”

“You trust too much, Andromeda.”

“And you forgive too little!” The woman-- Andromeda-- flings back. Sirius makes a disgusted noise halfway between a scoff and a growl, and otherwise doesn’t dignify her with a response.

Lupin rubs the bridge of his nose, looking very, very tired. “I suppose you best come in after all.” He opens the door farther, and Harry darts in before he can change his mind.

Besides Sirius, two other people are inside. One of them is Tonks, who give Harry a half-hearted attempt at a cheery wave from where she’s hovering behind an older woman who looks rather like her, but with dark hair instead of pink. The woman is clearly the one who was arguing with Sirius. They all look at Harry. “So, er. What’s going on?” he repeats.

Sirius throws his hands up. “Apparently, we’re hosting Death Eaters these days.” Andromeda glowers at him.

Lupin steps in before they dissolve into argument again. “The wife of a high ranking Death Eater has... defected, for lack of better term. She came to Andromeda looking for amnesty from the order for her and her son. However, their extraction a matter some  _urgency_ , as her son is set to be initiated into the Dark Lord’s ranks--”

“Coward,” Andromeda cuts in, “having child soldiers fight his battles.”

Lupin gives her a quelling look. “-- and this is the only safe house under enough security to kept them safe with no time for preparation.”

Harry frowns. “So she just wants to get her kid away from Voldemort?’

Lupin sighs. “By all appearances, yes. However, some have... doubts about the sincerity of her motives--”

“She swore an unbreakable vow! How much more sincere can you  _get_?”

“What’s an unbreakable vow?” Harry asks. “I mean, besides a vow you can’t break.”

It’s Tonks who answers. “If you do break its terms, you die,” she says bluntly, looking unsettled. “It’s some pretty serious shit.”

“Language,” Andromeda reprimands her absently, and Tonks gives her a bemused look. 

Harry frowns. “Then... how would she betray us?” He directs the question at Sirius.

“I... well, I don’t know.” He admits, with deep annoyance. “But it’s possible. As hard as you may try, there’s  _always_  a loophole in these literal, word-for-word type spells. And Narcissa?” he laughs bitterly. “She’s always been good with loopholes.” Narcissa. He name sounds familiar, but Harry can’t think where he’s heard it

“Sirius...”

“No, I-- we grew up with her, Andromeda. Can you think of even once she took the slightest issue with anything to do with the Dark Lord? She believes all that shit, the blood purity and supremacy and... Merlin, even the genocide of muggleborns isn’t something that bothered her. Why the sudden change of heart?”

“You know why, Sirius. You  _know_  her child won’t survive this if we don’t help.”

Sirius hesitates, then shakes his head. “I won’t risk Harry’s safety.”

“Yeah,” Harry interrupts, “You will.” Everyone looks at him, and Harry resists the urge to fidget. “Look, I know it’s risky, but if we don’t help and this woman and her kid  _die_? I’d rather take the risk, so don’t put that on me.”

Sirius stares at him for a long moment, then groans. “Fuck.”

“Dumbledore’s already agreed to let them under the charm,” Andromeda coaxs, sensing weakness. “As long as everyone living here agrees.” She shoots a prompting look at Harry and Lupin.

“Yeah, of course,” Harry puts in.

Lupin runs a hand through his hair and addresses Sirius. “I know how you feel about your family, and I don’t blame you,” he says quietly, “but I think you of all people should understand wanting to escape that life, even twenty years too late.” Sirius glares at him, and a long, silent conversation seems to pass between them before Lupin adds, “I agree as well.”

Andromeda looks expectantly at Sirius. He grits his teeth and exhales loudly. “Well, I guess we’re about overdue for a family reunion anyway,” He finally mutters.

Andromeda droops with relief. “Thank you.”

Harry frowns as a thought occurs to him. “Hey, how are you related to her anyway?” he asks. He tries to bring up a mental picture of the family tree in the sitting room-- that must be where he’s seen the name.

“We’re cousins,” Sirius says, “she’s Dromeda’s little sister.”

Right. There had been Andromeda, the burnt off one, and Bellatrix, and...

Oh.

Oh,  _no_.

“What,” Harry asks slowly, “what did you say her son’s name was again?”

He knows before he asks. Sirius had only had one other first cousin, and Harry remembers, now, remarking on it--  _you’re related to the Malfoys?_ \-- but he’s  _hoping_  he’s wrong.

He’d really love to be wrong.

Lupin winces, no doubt remembering his year teaching both Harry and Malfoy. “Ah. About that...”

He would never admit it, but Harry might have been a little less opposed to the "let them fend for themselves" option if he'd known the alternative was playing house with Draco Malfoy for the rest of the summer.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I imagine Sirius has... a lot more anger than Andromeda towards their family. That, you know, happens, when one of you had an emotionally fufilling life with a loving spouse and child and probably some therapy, and one of you was locked up for a decade for a crime you didn't commit. You tend to deal with your childhood trauma differently.
> 
> Also, I know 1000-1500 words are really short chapters, but with the amount of pov switching going, it just works best for now! And it means I can update every couple days, so. I hope you guys don’t mind! They’ll probably get longer when I hit the actual plot-plot.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a comment on your way out!


End file.
